august: fueled by sunset desire's dream of following the road into town and then out the other side without stopping at the lights or drinking another beer or getting anything close to a breath of the corn dog air we sped through, dimming the lights with our trance like transmission.
yesterday: listening to the sounds of sawing through boards that made shapes to be nailed together to hold us in i couldn't help but think of moving and wondering if i ever would again.
may: falling through rosebuds that hadn't thought of growing I was sure that i felt secure in the lessons i had learned in the beer gardens, at folded tables with wobbly chairs, and scrawny tablecloths full of the stains of gone-by years. however, it wasn't the case at all, the ground was still soft, the spring still warm, and a rock the size of a chicken egg split open my head.
thursday: hearing the sounds of vipers we quickly picked up our impromptu picnic and headed for the sandy rocks lining the canyon, there was something out there, either in front of us or to the side to the back somewhere a thing was coming up inside our personal space. I spilled some lemon-aide on the parched tongue of land we walked upon its taste-bud-cracks sucked it up. You smiled as you ran not knowing if it was into or out of danger.
ask yourself a question and be still, not looking into the future nor gazing at the past, listen for the answer provided by the now.
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